Through His Eyes
by KyoHana
Summary: Hiei is the lead guitarist for the up and coming rock band, Dragon's Flame.  When the band's producer decides they need a keyboardist, Hiei reacts badly but will that attitude continue once he meets the one chosen.  HxK and others.  Shoenen ai and Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

_**(Standard disclaimer: I don't own YYH or its characters; they are the sole property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shonen Jump Comics Weekly, Studio Pierrot and Fuji Television)**_

**A/N: This story is shounen ai and yaoi, and _will _contain lemons in later chapters. If you do not like this kind of thing, please leave now... I will not be offended. There will be several pairings but the main will be Kurama/Hiei.**

* * *

Hiei Jaganshi was not, at this moment, what one might call happy. In point of fact, not only was he _not_ happy, Hiei was royally, and justifiably (at least in his mind), pissed off! 

How dare their pompous ass of a producer arbitrarily decide what was best for _his_ band!

A sudden mental picture of said producer flashed through Hiei's mind. Yomi Gandara: tall, darkly handsome with long black hair and penetrating black eyes, and cynical to a fault. At one time, he had been the lead guitarist in the hugely popular band, Rose Whip, but that had been three years ago, before the accident that had taken the life of one of its members and left another without his sight. In the years since, Yomi had become a highly successful producer with Makai Productions, the record label that had recently signed the up and coming Dragon's Flame…Hiei's band.

And make no mistake… Dragon's Flame was his! Okay, so technically, his and Yusuke's. Hiei glanced over at the man he'd known since childhood. Yusuke Urameshi was stretched leisurely across one of the two overstuffed sofas that decorated the small lounge, his raven black head pillowed in the lap of the band's bassist (and Yusuke's lover), Koenma Daioh, his eyes closed. Long legs, encased in sinfully tight, low-slung black leather pants were crossed at the ankles; a shirt of emerald green silk opened over a tight, midriff baring tank top completing his ensemble. Long fingered hands were clasped across his chest, which rose and fell with each easy breath the man took. His dark hair, normally slicked back and gelled to within an inch of its life, was miraculously free of the sticky shit today. It spilled gracefully over his ears and around his heart shaped face, much like his lover's own tousled brown hair.

Hiei shifted his gaze from his childhood friend to the man in whose lap Yusuke's head rested. They were polar opposites: the cocky punk with the devil-may-care grin from the wrong side of the tracks, and the billionaire industrialist's son, born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. Even in looks and temperament, they were different. Yusuke exuded sensuality from every pore of his body. With his dark hair; wide, chocolate colored eyes; and full, pouty lips, he was a walking/talking sex machine.

Koenma, on the other hand, bore the classically handsome features of the upper class nobility. His hair was a beautiful honeyed brown, his eyes hazel. His nose was patrician and his mouth generous (that is, when you could see it, for the man had a fetish for lollipops and was very rarely seen without one stuck between his lips). He was taller than Yusuke, older than the other members of Dragon's Flame by three years.

Groomed from birth to succeed his father at the helm of the older Daioh's electronics and computer empire, Koenma had slipped into the role of heir-apparent with very little enthusiasm, but that had changed when he'd met the man whose head lay in his lap; his own graceful fingers threading through that head of black hair.

It was Yusuke who'd opened up a whole new world to the quiet, rather introverted, young man. A world that included not only Yusuke himself, but also the passion for music that Koenma had kept carefully hidden for so many years as he moved indifferently within the orbit of his father's realm. Yet once he'd gotten a taste of that world, Koenma had quickly forsaken his old ways and followed his heart directly into Yusuke's world and by extension, Dragon's Flame. To say that the elder Daioh was unhappy would have been a massive understatement. When Koenma had finally made it clear to his father that his former life, and indeed Enma himself, meant nothing to the young man, Enma's retaliation was swift. He'd cut is only son out of his life completely.

Koenma could have cared less. Power, the prestige of the Daioh name – neither of these had ever held any attraction for him. And money? If Enma had thought his son would come crawling back once the reality of being broke and left to wonder just exactly where your next meal might be coming from set in, he was in for a rather rude awakening. It seemed the noble father had forgotten that disowning the boy had not left him penniless after all. Though nowhere near as wealthy as his father, Koenma was nonetheless well off, thanks in large part to the trust fund he'd inherited from his mother, who had been wealthy in her own right prior to marrying into the powerful Daioh family. There was nothing his father could do legally, to wrest the trust fund from his son, and thus, Koenma was left to pursue the independent life he'd always dreamt of living.

Hiei glanced once more at the man Yusuke affectionately called 'rich boy'. Koenma was dressed somewhat more conservatively than his lover in khaki pants, the crease of which had been pressed to all but razor sharpness, and a yellow, button-down shirt opened at the neck, sleeves rolled up over slender, yet powerful forearms. His navy blue blazer had been carefully draped over the back of the sofa. His brown hair was tousled, as it always was, wisps of bang hanging into the eyes, and the ever-present Tootsie Pop remained tightly clamped between his lips as his fingers continued absently stroking through Yusuke's hair, causing the man in his lap to smile gently and murmur something unintelligible in his sleep.

Hiei's eyes remained on the lovers for a moment more before sliding over to the final member of their band. Kazuma Kuwabara was the drummer for Dragon's Flame and Yusuke Urameshi's best friend since the two were toddlers in short pants. Thus, by extension, he was Hiei's friend as well; not that the small man would ever admit to such or allow anyone to use the words 'Kuwabara' and 'friend' in the same sentence when referring to the relationship between the two. In fact, if anyone did have the temerity to try, Hiei would happily kick the crap out of him or her.

Kuwabara's gangly, six-foot frame, encased in his usual blue jeans, white muscle shirt and jeans jacket, now lay sprawled (there was no other word for it) across the other sofa; eyes closed in sleep. His carrot colored hair was slicked back, as always, into a tight pompadour. The fool probably thought he could single-handedly revive that particular 50's hairstyle if he kept wearing it long enough. Hiei snorted at the thought before he looked over again and noticed the slightly dopey grin plastered across Kuwabara's long, narrow face.

'Probably dreaming of my sister again.' That thought not only brought a scowl to Hiei's face as he stared at the idiot who was so enamored of his twin the fool couldn't string two words together when Yukina was around, but also served to darken further his already foul mood.

Hiei glanced down, briefly taking in his own appearance. He was, to put it politely, rather small in stature, though his height (or lack thereof) belied the strength contained within that small, compact form. His hair was black, darker than Yusuke's own raven locks, swept up in a spiky style reminiscent of the flames from a fire. He'd dyed the ends an electric blue and just recently had added an arced, white strip, resembling a lighting bolt, above the fringed bangs that hung almost to his eyes. His eyes were wide, slightly almond-shaped; though it was their color that made people, more often than not, notice him. They were a deep chestnut that, in certain light, looked almost red.

He was dressed today in his traditional black: blacks jeans that fitted suggestively over slim hips, a slashed hole in one knee; black, sleeveless, v-necked t-shirt, frayed at the neck and tight enough to show off his powerful pectoral muscles; and black, lace-up boots. The jeans were belted with a wide belt of studded black leather from which hung numerous silver chains. A tiny silver hoop decorated his left ear. A black, leather choker around his neck completed his wardrobe.

Hiei stopped suddenly, those unusual eyes widening even further as he realized he'd been looking over not only himself but the other band members almost as if he were 'inspecting the troops', so to speak. Is that what he'd been doing… making sure they were good enough for Yomi and his interloper? Again he snorted, this time in disgust at himself, his anger flaring once more.

'Bastard!' he hissed through clenched teeth. He looked up, red eyes flashing in anger and hands clenching themselves into fists, hearing the soft rush of escaping air as the door to the lounge began to open.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Standard Disclaimer: The standard disclaimer from the Prologue still applies. I own NOTHING, except my deep love for the H/K pairing._**

* * *

Hiei rose to his feet, hands still clenched so tightly that he could feel his nails digging into the soft flesh of his palms, as the door opened fully. Dragon's Flame may have been bullied into accepting their newest member, but he'd damned sure let the fucker know that, as far as the guitarist was concerned, he was neither welcomed nor wanted. 

Hiei's eyes narrowed as the figure at the door moved completely into the room. "Why the hell are you here?" he spat, the scowl on his face darkening further.

Mukuro Koorime, the band's manager, and one time lover of its ill-tempered lead guitarist, sauntered casually into the room, a large serving tray balanced carefully in her hands. "Ah, charming as ever, Hiei," she smirked as she deposited the tray on the table.

"And as to my reason for being here," she continued as she set the tray down on the table. "I should think that would be patently obvious, even to you. Yet as it seems it is not, I'll spell it out for you in simple terms. What affects Dragon's Flame, affects not only the band but also Makai Productions as a whole. Therefore, since the addition of this newest member is bound to have an impact on all of you, as your manager, I am here to assess precisely what that impact may be… at Raizen's suggestion, of course," she added as an afterthought.

"Hn… figures." Hiei had relaxed his stance and now stood, arms crossed over his chest. "Your lover commands and you rush to obey, right?"

Mukuro straightened, rising to her full height, which was, admittedly, only two inches more than that of her erstwhile lover. Slender hands folded themselves together and blue eyes, framed by long, dark lashes calmly met Hiei's glare. She was an attractive, elegant woman. Even the short, rather choppy hairstyle she sported, which would have looked boyish on anyone other than Mukuro, only heightened her natural beauty and poise. She had become the band's manager shortly after its inception, and not long after that, she and the little guitarist had become lovers.

They'd come together more out of some mutual physical need rather than any great love for each other; though over time, Mukuro had grown to love the taciturn guitarist. Hiei, while he cared for the woman who was his lover and manager, found he could not return her love, and so, after a few short yet memorable months, they mutually agreed to end the affair.

Over the months that followed their breakup, even Mukuro had to admit that they were much better friends than lovers, and so they settled into the comfortable routine they now shared. Oh, Mukuro still loved Hiei, but it had changed, grown, evolved into something deeper, more real than the romantic love of novels and stories. She genuinely cared for the little guitarist. And Hiei, though he maintained his stoic façade even with her, was fiercely protective of her, just as fiercely as he was of Yukina.

Mukuro meet those unusual eyes now, staring calmly back at Hiei but with a look that clearly said, 'I won't dignify your comment with a reply', before she returned her attention to the tray, removing the items it contained and placing them on the table. When she was finished, she again looked over at the small guitarist and with a wave of her hands, indicated the spread she'd laid out.

She smiled magnanimously. "I come, like the proverbial Greeks, bearing gifts. Have some coffee, Hiei. And a muffin. They may sweeten your temperament."

Without waiting for a reply, Mukuro set about getting herself some coffee. She knew Hiei well enough; knew he couldn't resist the tempting smell of freshly brewed coffee or the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked blueberry muffins. Sure enough, as she added cream to her own cup, he was already filling his from the insulated carafe.

Hiei filled his cup then added four sugars to the dark liquid – no cream. His stomach gurgled appreciatively as he reached out and placed a muffin onto a small plate then picked up both cup and plate and moved to the second sofa. Kicking Kuwbara's feet off the end, which caused the taller male to startle awake and immediately begin bellowing, he sat down.

"Hey runt!" Kuwabara glowered at the smaller man as Hiei settled himself on the sofa and prepared to enjoy his repast. "It's polite to ASK if you want to share the couch! At least," he huffed, "that's what CIVILIZED people do!"

The carrot-topped drummer paused in his tirade to sniff the air appreciatively. He clasped his hands together, a wide grin splitting his narrow face as he all but moaned in ecstasy, salivary glands suddenly working overtime. "Mmmmm, are those muffins? Blueberry muffins? And coffee? Oh gods! There's NOTHING better in the whole world than the smell of hot coffee, and fresh baked muffins… unless they were made by the loving hands of my sweet lamb chop, my bea-U-tiful turtledove…my lovely YUUU… KIII… NAAA!!"

"Oh for the love of…" Hiei muttered in disgust. "Will you shut the FUCK up already?!"

Hiei set his cup carefully on the low table that fronted the sofa then pinned Kuwabara with a glare that could melt stone (and probably had). "I swear by all that is holy," he continued in a low, deadly voice, "that if you squeal my sister's name one more time in that damned donkey's bray you call a voice, I will personally rip your voice box out of your fucking throat!! Do I make myself clear, you moronic buffoon?!"

Kuwabara was positively apoplectic, his pale face now a rather interesting mottled red as he glared in silence at the guitarist before leaping to his feet, eyes blazing and hands clenching into fists as he towered about the smaller man. Hiei calmly stared back at his nemesis before he reached out, picked his cup back up, and took a sip of the cooling liquid.

"Just try it you midget ASSHOLE!" the drummer shrieked, fists upraised and spoiling for a fight. "That is, IF you think you're MAN enou….."

"HEY!" The whiplash crack of that voice cut sharply through the air, halting Kuwabara in mid-taunt. Shocked, the taller man turned to face that voice just as Hiei lifted his own eyes and glanced coolly over at the speaker. Yusuke responded with a look so fierce it rivaled even Hiei's infamous 'death' glare.

"Sheesh!" the raven-haired singer groused, raising himself up on his elbows to continue staring at the two men. "Show some gods-damned consideration, will ya'?! People are tryin' to sleep here, ya' know?!"

"Ye… yeah… well… HE started it!" Kuwabara sputtered indignantly, jerking a thumb at the little guitarist. Hiei merely raised an eyebrow before returning to his coffee. "And you can kiss my ass, Urameshi!" The carrot-topped drummer huffed once more before settling down on the opposite end of the sofa to enjoy his own coffee and muffin.

Yusuke laughed then turned his attention to his lover. Reaching up with one hand, he removed the Tootsie Pop from Koenma's mouth as with the other, he pulled the man's head down, lips meeting in a kiss that soon turned passionate.

When the two finally separated, Koenma was breathing heavily and Yusuke's mouth stretched into a lascivious grin as he ran his tongue over lips that were slightly swollen. "Mmmmm," he purred, "cherry… my favorite flavor."

Pulling Koenma's head back down, he proceeded to plunder the older man's lips and mouth once more causing Kuwabara to choke and sputter, almost spitting out the mouthful of muffin he'd taken. When he could swallow and breathe once more, he pierced the two with an icy glare. "Geez, Urameshi," he muttered disgustedly, "why dontcha' get a room already 'stead of grossin' us out while we're tryin' to eat?!"

The lovers pulled apart again and Yusuke turned to face his idiotic best friend. With that lascivious grin still on his face, he slowly raised his hand, middle finger extended. "Fuck you, Kuwabara," he cheerfully replied.

While Kuwabara muttered something along the lines of 'in your dreams', Yusuke looked around the room, his large, dark eyes widening when they landed on Mukuro as if noticing for the first time she was in the room.

"Hey Boss Lady," he grinned at her. "What's up?"

Mukuro answered that grin with a smirk. "I was about to ask you the same thing," she answered, eyebrow quirking upwards as she blatantly eyed his leather-clad crotch. "Think you two can straighten yourselves out before Yomi and your new keyboardist arrive?"

Blood suffused Koenma's cheeks and he, at least, had the grace to look abashed. Yusuke just laughed and stretched his arms over his head, arching his back into the stretch before he bounded up off the sofa and headed toward the table. "That coffee?" he asked large, brown eyes alight as he sniffed the delectable aroma and helped himself to a cup.

* * *

The sleek, black Mercedes limousine wove effortlessly through the mid-morning traffic of downtown Tokyo. Two men, separated by a Plexiglas privacy window from the chauffer, sat silently in the back, each lost in his own thoughts. 

Yomi, dressed in a charcoal gray Armani silk suit and lavender, cashmere turtleneck sweater (also Armani), contemplated the man sitting across from him, taking in the other's rather casual attire – clothing that was anything but.

While Yomi himself was handsome, this man was, quite simply, beautiful. He sat, reclined against the dark leather seat like some Greek god come to earth, his pose relaxed and easy. Long legs, encased in softest brown doeskin suede, were crossed at the ankles; small, narrow feet (sans socks) adorned in boots of the same material. A loose-fitting shirt (reminiscent of what had been known in the '70s as a poet's shirt) of crème silk opened in a 'V' to reveal just a hint of pale throat and chest. When standing, it would reach just below slender hips. The long sleeves of the shirt ended in an elasticized ruffle that all but covered the hands folded demurely into his lap, long, slender fingers intertwined. A weskit of paisley-patterned silk in hues of moss, gold, teal, and eggplant was worn over the shirt. Thick crimson hair that reached almost to his waist was pulled into a high ponytail, wisps of which, along with twin silken forelocks, framed the elfin features of the man's face. A tiny gold hoop pierced the lobe of one of the shell-like ears. Fashionable black sunglasses completed the ensemble, hiding the man's eyes.

"You're salivating." The wry observation broke the silence between the two men; the dulcet tenor of the speaker's voice sending a shiver along Yomi's spine just as it always did when his companion spoke.

"That I am," Yomi agreed amiably. "But then, how could I do otherwise when you sit there looking so delicious edible?"

Beneath the dark glasses, Shuuichi Minamino, known to the man sitting across from him and those faithful fans that refused to let Rose Whip die as 'Kurama', arched an elegant, crimson eyebrow before he leant forward slightly, deftly reaching across the space between them. Slender fingers quickly closed upon and snatched the lavender silk handkerchief that resided in Yomi's breast pocket.

"Wipe your mouth," he said, as he held the silken square out to his raven-haired friend.

Once Yomi had relieved him of the cloth, Kurama sat back. "And that type of flattery, Yomi, will not get you what you desire," he stated flatly.

Carefully, Yomi wiped his lips then just as carefully, refolded the handkerchief and replaced it in his pocket. Only then did dark eyes return to his companion. "Tell me, then," he asked, "exactly what type of flattery _will_ gain me what it is I desire?"

An answer was not immediately forthcoming. Instead, thin, elegant hands rose to remove dark glasses, baring Kurama's ruined eyes. Sightless green seemed to meet ebony, and Yomi felt a familiar tightness in his chest. Once, those eyes that stared across the cabin had been a brilliant emerald, sparkling far brighter than the gem bearing that name. Now, they were a flat jade, as dull in color as the moss green in the vest Kurama wore.

A small, almost inaudible sigh, and then, "I'd really rather not have this conversation just now."

Not precisely the answer Yomi had wanted, and yet, it wasn't at all unexpected. It had become Kurama's standard reply whenever Yomi broached the subject of his feelings for his long-time friend… feelings they _both_ knew had long ago become something far more than mere friendship. Knowing this, however, Yomi could not help the stirrings of anger and bitter frustration he felt at hearing, once again, those words spoken in that soft voice. Before he could censor his thoughts and feelings, though, he heard himself respond, his voice speaking as if of its own volition.

"Of course not! Tell me, Kurama, when would be a _convenient_ time for you." The words flowed freely, dripping with sarcasm and irritation. "Dammit all, it's been three years….."

"You think I don't know that!" Though the voice was still soft, it was harsh, ragged with pain. "_I_, better than anyone, know _exactly_ how long it's been!"

Another sigh, this time quite audible and from Yomi. His anger dissipated as abruptly as it had come. "I'm sorry, Kurama. I have no wish to upset you. It's just that, after all this time, I should think you'd finally be ready to move on."

"Three years," he finished softly. "Time enough to let him….."

"DON'T!" Kurama spat, his hand raised as if to ward off those hateful words. "You have NO right to ask that of me!" Ruined eyes seemed to bore into Yomi, begging the man for understanding, before Kurama lowered his head, long, thick lashes hiding those eyes as he sought to regain his composure.

There was silence for a moment and then Kurama raised his head. When he spoke, his voice was quiet once again though Yomi clearly heard the steel within it. "This conversation is at an end."

Whatever answer Yomi might have given would have to wait for another time (and Kurama, despite his words, was sure that it would), for at that moment, the limousine came to a halt, having reached its destination. At the same time there came the soft chirping the intercom system. Kurama heard the handset being lifted and a brief silence as Yomi listened to the chauffer (no doubt announcing the obvious – their arrival). A quiet 'thank you', and then the handset was replaced.

"We've arrived," Yomi said unnecessarily. "Are you ready?"

Kurama nodded, immediately reaching to unfasten his seatbelt, his mind already leaving their argument behind; his heart and soul focusing only on the music that had been a part of him long before… before Yomi… before Rose Whip… yes, even before… _him_.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Standard Disclaimer: You know the drill... YYH and its characters are the sole property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shonen Jump Comics Weekly, Studio Pierrot, and Fuji Television. I own nothing, except a deep love of them and the Hiei/Kurama pairing._**

**Author's Note: I am truly sorry for taking so long to update. However, as most of you know, I have been distracted recently with planning my daughter's wedding. And once the wedding was done, my muse took a powder and I've been plagued ever since with a MAJOR case of writer's block. Thanks for bearing with me and enjoy!**

* * *

The door swung inward again, but this time Hiei remained seated, arms crossed over his chest and lips drawn downward into his customary scowl. Though his whole being radiated bored indifference, his mind raged with renewed anger as Yomi stepped through the door, their new keyboardist by his side.

The little guitarist took a moment to observe (surreptitiously, of course) the man and felt his breath catch and his mouth suddenly go dry. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything or anyone so beautiful. And Kurama was that – had always been – there was no denying it. Hiei had seen posters of Rose Whip, the smiling redhead always in the center of the trio. He remembered watching their music videos. Hell, he even owned one or two of their CDs, that beautiful face gracing the sleeve. Yet he found that, now, confronted with the physical embodiment of the one known as Kurama, none of those things – not the CD sleeves, not the posters, nor the videos – did justice to the man's beauty. He couldn't (no matter that he tried) take his eyes off of the lithe figure now standing just inside the door, one slender arm tucked into the crook of Yomi's own, the long-fingered hand resting atop it.

Hiei let his eyes roam upwards from the slender, dancer-like physique to the pale face with its elfin features, eyes hidden beneath dark glasses, and finally, to the long scarlet hair in its ponytail. As he stared, fascinated by this living, breathing god before him, Hiei found he could not stop his traitorous thoughts – thoughts of what it would be like to touch that porcelain flesh; to press his lips against those sensual pink lips; to loose that luxurious red mane from its confines and run his fingers through it. Of their own volition, those same fingers twitched, and savagely, Hiei dug them into the soft flesh of his upper arms, thankful that everyone's attention was so focused on the newcomers they hadn't noticed his brief lapse in sanity.

It was Yusuke's voice that grounded him to reality once more. He looked up, his indifferent mask firmly in place as the vocalist moved toward Yomi and Kurama, hand thrust out to greet their new band mate. "Hey!" that loud voice exclaimed. "Nice ta' meetcha'. Yusuke Urameshi – vocals and leader of this motley crew."

Their dark-haired singer stood there, his grin faltering, arm and hand dropping awkwardly back to his side as Kurama made no move to take the proffered hand. Hiei snorted. Obviously the idiot had no idea that the man he'd just tried to shake hands with was blind.

Koenma came to his lover's rescue as he moved to stand beside Yusuke. Wrapping his arm comfortingly around the boy's waist, he leaned in slightly and whispered something in Yusuke's ear, causing the boy to flush a deep crimson. He then turned his attention back to the two men at the door. "I'm Koenma," he said, "Koenma Daioh. Bass guitar and background vocals."

Kurama slipped his arm from Yomi's and bowed, unaware of the momentary awkwardness. A gentle smile graced his full lips. "Shuuichi Minamino. But please, call me Kurama. It is a pleasure to meet you both."

"Hey! Don't forget about me!" Their drummer's obnoxiously loud bray resounded throughout the room, sending a jolt through the little guitarist, and Hiei glared at the larger man. "Name's Kuwabara! Kazuma Kuwabara, but you can just call me Kuwabara," the carrot-haired drummer continued as he bounded forward. "I'm the drummer!"

Kurama bowed again, his ears having told him that Kuwabara had come up to stand next to, and slightly behind, Yusuke and Koenma. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Kuwabara." Another gentle smile followed his response to Kuwabara's enthusiastic introduction.

Yomi reached out then, gaining Kurama's attention with a soft touch to the keyboardist's arm. Kurama turned slightly at the contact. "And of course," the producer said, "you've already met Mukuro."

"A pleasure to see you again, Kurama," said the manager of Dragon's Flame as she came forward to join the group. Though she knew neither Hiei nor Kurama could see it, Mukuro smirked as she turned to face the small guitarist still seated on the sofa. "And last, but certainly not least, our lead guitarist and co-founder of Dragon's Flame….."

"Well isn't this just wonder-fucking-ful?!" Hiei drawled as he rose from the sofa, each word heavy with sarcastic contempt. "Not ONLY do we get saddled with a keyboardist that we neither want nor desire, but he turns out to be a fucking BLIND has-been at that!"

"Better a 'fucking blind has-been' than a fucking never-was." Came the pleasantly conversational response from the blind keyboardist himself as Kurama inclined his head slightly toward that angry voice. "And you are?" he inquired.

"Fuck you!" spat the little guitarist.

A small smile graced Kurama's full lips, and Hiei could not stop the tightening in his nether regions at seeing that smile directed at him. With an effort, he managed to rein in his body's betrayal and focus his attention on the redhead who was speaking again.

"While I do appreciate the offer…" Kurama let out a small sigh. "Sadly, since I don't even know your name, I fear I must decline."

Another smile, this one somewhat wistful, accompanied his words. Stunned, Hiei opened his mouth, fully prepared with some scathing retort; however, no words followed. That is, not until he heard Yusuke snicker, and his anger flared once more, effectively loosening his tongue.

"Jaganshi, you arrogant bastard," he spat. "Hiei Jaganshi."

Kurama gave a small bow. "A pleasure, Mr. Jaganshi. And I can assure you, my parents _were_ married prior to my conception and birth."

Hiei had no opportunity for a comeback as Yomi chose that moment to clear his throat with a soft 'ahem'. "Now that the introductions are done, and the question of Kurama's birth has been settled, may I suggest we get on with the reason we are all here?" he asked.

"I think that's an excel…" Mukuro began, only to be interrupted by the near manic query that suddenly erupted from the band's energetic lead singer…..

"Hey Kurama, man," Yusuke all but shouted, "why dontcha' play somethin' for us?"

Yusuke's energy and enthusiasm was nothing if not infectious and Kurama found himself smiling. "It would be my pleasure, Mr. Urameshi. That is, if no one has any objections."

Yusuke grinned. "Nah, no one's got any, right guys? And it's Yusuke… just Yusuke."

"I certainly have none," Koenma agreed. "I should very much like to hear….."

"Me, too!" Kuwabara chimed in as well, cutting Koenma off. "C'mon, Kurama, show us whatcha' got!"

"Hn," was Hiei's only response. If the little guitarist did have an objection to hearing Kurama play, he chose to keep it to himself and merely followed the others as they left the lounge and headed to one of the recording rooms.

* * *

With Yomi's guidance, Kurama eased himself behind the U-shaped collection of keyboards and synthesizer and settled into the tiny seat in the middle of the array as the rest of the group positioned themselves behind the clear glass that separated the recording studio from the sound booth.

When he'd settled himself completely and removed his glasses, setting them aside, Kurama ran deft fingers across the keyboards, acquainting himself with the location of the buttons on the synthesizer before flicking them to the 'on' position. He heard the door close as Yomi left the room and knew that his friend was now positioning himself before the soundboard, his own long fingers flicking the various knobs, dials, and switches arrayed across the top of the board.

The redhead took that time to flex his fingers and then ran them through some brief scales before Yomi's voice came through the speakers. "Ready, Kurama?" he asked, and at the affirming nod of crimson hair, flicked the final switch. Almost immediately, the opening chords to 'Darkside Stories' filled the room.

Upon hearing those notes, Hiei's head shot up, eyes going wide and jaw dropping in shock, anger and disbelief. His song! The bastard had had the balls to mess with _HIS_ song for fuck's sake!

Yet, as he continued to listen, Hiei felt his anger beginning to fall away. He admitted, albeit grudgingly and _only_ to himself, that the arrangement was good. Hell, it was better than good… it was fucking fantastic! The bridge… he'd had so much trouble with that particular part of the song. He'd known what he'd wanted for the instrumental but couldn't seem to get the music from his head to his fingers.

Though it seemed the redheaded keyboardist hadn't suffered the same affliction. Kurama had chosen to use a bit of Mussorgsky's 'Night on Bald Mountain' as the bridge rather than the half-hearted original attempt Hiei had made. It was, the small guitarist admitted to himself, the perfect fit for the dark theme of the song itself, and Hiei could not help the small, satisfied smile he felt tugging at his lips as he continued to watch and listen.

When the song ended and those beautiful, sightless green eyes that had been closed throughout his playing opened, Hiei's carefully constructed mask of bored indifference laced with anger was once more fixed firmly upon his face. He watched as Kurama raised a slender hand and reached across the keyboard for the 'com button. But before the redhead had a chance to press the button, Hiei strode forward, smashing the button on his side of the glass partition.

"What the FUCK do you think you're doing to MY song?!" he spat.


	4. Chapter 4

**_(Standard disclaimer: I down't own YYH or its characters; they are the sole property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shonen Jump Comics Weekly, Studio Pierrot, and Fuji Television.)_**

**WARNING: This chapter is a LEMON! If you are not 17 years of age, or don't like Yaoi, please DO NOT read!**

**A/N: Eight pages!! I can't believe I wrote that much!! I do hope those of you who read, like this chapter. It's only the second lemon I've ever attempted to write. And this chapter is dedicated to the one and only _KogasHentaiLover_ who has a massive, wicked love for our Toushin.**

**Chapter is totally Yusuke/Koenma and without further adieu...**

* * *

Koenma accepted the glass of wine Yusuke handed him then reached out with his free hand to pull the younger man down onto the couch beside him. It was good to be home again. 

They, as well as Kuwabara, had escaped the tense atmosphere of the recording studio immediately following Hiei's outburst, leaving their producer and manager to sort things out between the surly little guitarist and their new keyboard player.

As Koenma wrapped his free arm around his lover, Yusuke pulled his legs and feet up, curling himself into the soft leather, and snuggled against his lover, his beverage of choice – a beer – in hand.

Koenma took a sip of wine before setting the crystal stem on the low table that fronted their sofa. He sat back, wrapped his arm around Yusuke once more, and pulled him closer. "So tell me, my love, what did you think of Minamino-san's rather unique arrangement for 'Darkside Stories'?"

"It fuckin' ROCKED!" was the enthusiastic response before Yusuke put the beer to his lips and took a long pull from the bottle then set it down on the table next to Koenma's glass. The younger man was quiet for a moment, brow furrowed in concentration as he let his memory of the music he'd heard wash over him. "The instrumental," he said, after a moment, "you know the part with the violins? It sounded familiar, but I can't seem to place it."

"Mussorgsky," Koenma responded.

Yusuke turned a puzzled face up to his lover. "Huh!?"

"It was from Mussorgsky's 'Night on Bald Mountain'," the older man replied. "It's a classical piece composed by Modest Mussorgsky, a Russian, in 1867."

"Thanks for the history lesson, Brainiac." Yusuke nudged his partner playfully. "So what'd you think?"

"It was good," came the succinct reply. Koenma thought a moment. "Though I'm not sure Hiei shares either of our opinions."

"I think you're wrong about that." Yusuke paused, removed his hand from its resting place beneath Koenma's elbow and reached out to grasp his beer from the table. Again, he took a long drink before putting the bottle back down. "Short stack couldn't keep his eyes off Red the entire time, and I know he was impressed as hell by that arrangement, even if he'd never admit to it. 'Course, it probably helped Kurama's cause that our new piano player is drop dead gorgeous!"

Koenma shifted slightly so that he could face his younger lover. Placing a hand beneath Yusuke's chin, he tilted the boy's face up to meet his. "And just what does that make me, then, chopped liver?" he asked.

"Nah," Yusuke replied with a smirk, "you're pate, Rich Boy."

Koenma chuckled. "Yusuke, my love, pate _is_ chopped liver."

"Oops!" Yusuke looked sheepish, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. He shrugged. "Well, it's the thought that counts, right?"

Again, Koenma chuckled. His lover could be so endearing at times. He shifted, raising his arms to wrap them completely around the younger man and lifting, pulled the boy into his lap. Yusuke shifted as well, placing his long legs to either side of his lover, straddling the older man, moaning as their groins pressed delightfully together.

Koenma leaned forward slightly until his forehead touched Yusuke's own. "That's my Yu-chan," he chuckled softly, "forever thinking with his stomach."

"Dinner?" Yusuke asked hopefully, his arms wrapped around Koenma's neck, hands entwined in the silky, light brown hair.

Koenma's hazel eyes lit with mischief as he tightened his hold around Yusuke's waist and started to rise from the couch. "Actually, Love, I was thinking more along the lines of dessert."

Yusuke's grin stretched from one ear to the other as he planted his feet against the sofa back and pushed, aiding his lover in his endeavor to get them up off the couch. "I like the way you think, Rich Boy."

Their lips met again, mouths opening and tongues dueling as they rose from the sofa. Yusuke wrapped his legs tightly around Koenma's waist, his arms twined around his lover's neck, hands and fingers tangled in the honey-brown hair. Koema held tightly to his lover, continuing to ravish the younger man's mouth as he made his way down the hall to their bedroom.

* * *

Once they'd reached the room, Yusuke broke their lip-lock and slid down Koenma's body, rewarded with a low moan as his erection rubbed against his lover's own tightened groin. With a grin, he stepped back from the other man then proceeded to tease Koenma further as he began a slow, sensual striptease. Piece by piece, Yusuke peeled his clothes from his body. Once he'd finished, he climbed onto the bed. On hands and knees he presented Koenma with the delectable sight of a perfectly sculpted rear-end just before he began a slow, sensuous crawl up the length of the king-sized bed. When he reached the mound of pillows at the head of the bed, Yusuke turned around and lay back against them, legs spread in open invitation. One hand curled behind the pillows and the other was raised, finger beckoning his lover, a 'come hither' look in wide, lust-filled, dark eyes.

Koenma wasted no time in divesting himself of his own clothes then climbed onto the bed. He did not, however, position himself next to his lover or in between those ahem welcoming legs, but rather, settled himself at Yusuke's feet (much to his dark-haired lover's chagrin). Reaching out, Koenma ran slender fingers over the left foot before he leaned over and began gently kissing and caressing the appendage.

He continued on; leaving feather-light kisses, nips, and touches upon the ankle then moving upward along Yusuke's calf until he came to the knee. Here, Koenma paused and raised his head, hazel eyes roaming the face of his lover. Yusuke's eyes were wide, dilated even further by the lust coursing through his system, luscious lips parted slightly, and his breaths, shallow pants as he watched the other man slowly inch his way up his body.

Their eyes met and Koenma dropped an eyelid in a lazy wink then leaned down once again, dropping a light kiss on the kneecap before flicking his tongue out and swirling it around the knee and down onto the inner leg. He continued upwards; kissing, nipping and licking Yusuke's inner thigh, slowly driving his lover crazy with need until at last, he arrived at the one place his young lover craved the most attention.

Yusuke's breathing hitched in expectation as he felt his lover's lips ghost over his hips and pelvis. But Koenma had other plans, and he would not be swayed. He knew his lover's body; knew that Yusuke's stomach, and particularly his navel, were extraordinarily sensitive to touch. And so, with a brief nuzzle at the soft black curls of Yusuke's groin (which brought a groan from the singer), he made his way upward again. Across the taut, muscular abdomen his lips touched the flesh with fleeting, butterfly kisses until they came to rest upon the divot in the very center. Here he stopped again, this time to pay homage to that particular area with soft nips and sucks along the outer edges before he began flicking his tongue into and out of the tiny hollow.

Yusuke moaned, loud and long, as that warm, wet tongue circled around and dipped within his navel. Caught between ecstasy and frustration, his hands fisted, opening and closing around the silken sheets below him as his body writhed in response to the delicious torture. Yet as Koenma continued his ministrations, frustration won out and Yusuke raised himself up on his elbows, fixing his lover with a glare that would have done Hiei proud.

"Ko…En…Ma," he rasped, catching the older man's attention. "If you don't find a better use for that mouth of yours in about two seconds…."

Koenma's head lifted, honey-colored eyes met those of his lover, glinting with mischief. "And exactly what did you have in mind, my love?" He smirked at the younger man. "Something like this, perhaps?"

With that, Koenma lowered his head and in the next instant, Yusuke felt soft, moist lips on his shaft just before hot, wet heat totally engulfed his arousal. His arms collapsed, and he fell back down upon the pillows, a long low groan issuing from between his parted lips as he felt that oh-so-talented mouth begin a new and even more delightful torture.

Koenma closed his mouth around his lover's shaft, relaxing his throat muscles so that he could accommodate it completely before sucking deeply. He was rewarded by the deep moan that reached his ears and couldn't help smiling around the thickness surrounded by his mouth and throat. He enjoyed pleasuring his young lover; enjoyed how responsive Yusuke was to the slightest touch, as long as it was his.

With deliberate strokes, his tongue and mouth continued working Yusuke's sex; head bobbing up and down as he alternately sucked and then licked the hardened length. Yusuke bucked his hips upwards, his hands fisting and then opening in the wine-colored silk of the sheets as he gave himself up completely to the sensations the hot, moist cavern encompassing his shaft evoked. Gods, Koenma was just SO damned good at that! 'It had to be the lollipops'… the part of Yusuke's brain that was still functional idly thought, and Yusuke found himself (or at least, those one or two functioning neurons) thanking whichever god graced his lover with that peculiar fetish.

"AAAHHHH," he moaned, head pressed back into the mound of pillows as his hips continued thrusting upwards in perfect sync with the rhythm of Koenma's mouth. "YES, Rich Boy… feels SO GOOD!! Oh gods, Koenma… keep it up, PLEEAASSEE!"

His lover's passionate words spurred Koenma on and he set an even faster pace, knowing Yusuke was close to his completion. And he was right, for just moments later, Yusuke's back arched, his head pressing even deeper into the pillows as he came, thrusting deeply into Koenma's mouth. His hands clenched the bed sheets tightly as he spasmed, his shaft pulsing as it spilled his seed into his lover's throat.

Koenma swallowed all that Yusuke's body offered him, not releasing his hold until Yusuke finished and sank bonelessly into the sheets, his sex already softening.

When Yusuke came back to himself, he found Koenma was again nipping, licking and kissing his way up Yusuke's body. He raised up on his elbows, watching with a smile as his lover halted at his chest to lick and nip at his right nipple until it hardened then suckled at the pert nub before Koenma kissed his way across his chest to lavish the same attention on the other.

Very soon, Yusuke found those lips and that mouth attached to his collarbone, and then to his neck before coming to rest against his own in a passionate kiss. Eagerly he parted his lips, allowing Koenma's tongue to slip into his mouth and Yusuke to taste himself on his lover. Tongues dueled as Koenma reached down and pulled his lover upright until he was seated, back against the pillows, then shifted his own body so that he was straddling the younger man, his arms now encircling Yusuke's neck.

When the need for oxygen could no longer be ignored (lest they be found days later; cause of death – asphyxiation), the lovers broke their kiss. Breathing heavily, Koenma's eyes met those of his lover, and with a mischievous grin, said, "Well, my love, I've had my dessert. Now, what would you like for yours?"

Yusuke answered that grin with a smirk of his own. One hand, attached to an arm that had heretofore been wrapped around Koenma's waist, reached down and calloused fingers ghosted over the hardened, slightly purpled length of his partner's manhood. The other arm and hand, meanwhile, reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the bottle of scented lubricant there.

Bottle in one hand and held out to Koenma; the other still stroking his length, Yusuke leaned forward until his lips were mere inches from his lover's. "Want you, Rich Boy," he whispered huskily; the whisper accompanied by a low, throaty moan that was almost a growl. "In me… NOW!"

Koenma hazel eyes were tender, and filled with love, as he took the bottle from Yusuke. It was rare that Yusuke relinquished control to the older man; preferring to be the 'top' just as Koenma preferred to be beneath his lover, Yusuke filling his body and soul. Not that it hadn't happened, for it had – usually when Yusuke was feeling particularly vulnerable or playful – and Koenma found himself idly wondering which emotion it was that dictated Yusuke's actions tonight. Not that he really cared one way or another. His lover wanted him to take him and that was reason enough for Koenma.

Setting the bottle back on the night table for later use, Koenma eased himself off his lover and moved back down the bed until he was once again sitting on his knees by Yusuke's ankles. Gently he grasped both those ankles then pulled downwards until the boy was once more laying flat on his back, his head cushioned by the pillows. Yusuke grinned and immediately spread his legs. A muted thwap resounded in the room as his foot inadvertently made contact with Koenma's thigh.

"Oops." Yusuke met his lover's eyes. "Sorry about that," he apologized, still grinning.

Koenma didn't answer. He simply crawled around the offending appendage and between his lover's legs. With a lascivious grin, he settled himself down upon the hard body beneath him, taking special care to have his manhood rub that of his partner. Yusuke let out a long, low moan and immediately thrust his hips upwards, trying to increase the delightful friction.

Koenma pressed further against his lover as he bent his head and captured Yusuke's kiss swollen lips in a passionate kiss. Yusuke welcomed the warm tongue that suddenly invaded his mouth and again, their tongues battled; each thoroughly mapping the contours of the other's mouth as hands roamed flesh.

Koenma broke their kiss, his lips traveling along Yusuke's cheek and down his jawbone. Feather-light kisses ghosted over the flesh of the younger man's throat. The lips paused when they reached the bottom of Yusuke's neck and once more, Yusuke felt that hot mouth on his as Koenma began gently sucking on the soft flesh between his neck and collarbone.

As he continued sucking, Koenma's hand roamed down Yusuke's chest before coming to rest upon the rough pink flesh of a nipple. Again Yusuke arched into his lover's touch, his breath hitching. Deft fingers circled that nipple, gently coaxing the small nub into pebbly hardness.

"Oh gods!" Yusuke's voice was a strangled groan as Koenma's mouth left his neck and his lips began their downward trek once again while his hand continued the pleasurable exploration of Yusuke's nipple.

Alternately kissing, nipping, and licking his way along the powerful planes of his young partner's chest, Koenma came at last to the nipple he'd been caressing. Silky soft lips latched onto the hardened nub and began sucking. Yusuke's breath hitched again and his hands dropped from where they had been caressing his lover's back to fist in the sheets. Hearing his lover's breath hitch, Koenma withdrew his lips from the nipple he'd been teasing and gently blew on the moist flesh.

At the loss of those wonderful lips on his flesh, Yusuke arched upwards again, silently demanding more contact with his lover. Koenma quickly acquiesced to his lover's request and dipped his head, retaking the nipple into his mouth, nipping and suckling at it once more. For several pleasurable minutes, he continued lavishing attention to the pert nub before he left it alone and began dropping more light kisses, nips, and licks across powerful pectoral muscles to pay homage to the other.

Koenma spent several more delightful moments in this manner, his tongue, teeth and lips worshipping the flesh he held. Yusuke's breath now came in short pants as he gave himself up to the delicious torture Koenma's touch evoked.

When at last he finished his teasing, Koenma shifted upward to reclaim Yusuke's lips. Yusuke responded instantly. His mouth opened to give his lover access, as his body writhed beneath the other man. Arms wrapped themselves around the lithe body atop his, fingers softly stroking the satin flesh of Koenma's back and shoulders.

As he continued to plunder his young lover's mouth, Koenma's hand reached out, groping for the night table and the bottle of oil he'd placed there. Without breaking the kiss, his fingers closed around the bottle and he lifted it from the table. Reluctantly, Koenma ended the kiss and raised himself up until he was kneeling between Yusuke's legs.

Yusuke's eyes, which had been closed the entire time Koenma had ravished his mouth, opened now. Eagerly those peat dark eyes watched as Koenma twisted the top from the bottle and pulled it off then tipped the bottle into his hand. The heady fragrance of spice and wood filled the room as Koenma coated his hand, fingers, and shaft liberally with the oil. When he finished, he leaned down to recapture Yusuke's lips. Deepening the kiss, Koenma slipped his hand between his lover's legs and began to tease the hidden entrance with one oil-slicked finger.

The finger gently circled the puckered opening several times before slipping inside. Slowly, Koenma continued the soft, circular motions before beginning to slide the finger in and out of his lover. Yusuke thrust his hips upwards, meeting Koenma's motions. When he felt his lover's thrusts matching his finger's movements, Koenma added a second finger, carefully scissoring them within his lover to stretch the muscles of Yusuke's passage.

After a few moments, and seeing his lover respond to the two fingers within his body, Koenma added a third finger. Alternating between the scissoring motion and the gentle in and out sliding motion, Koenma continued pleasuring his young lover for several minutes more before he gently withdrew his hand. Yusuke whimpered at the loss of contact, but those whimpers soon turned to moans as Koenma aligned himself at Yusuke's entrance and then slowly began to push into his lover.

Once he was fully sheathed, Koenma held himself still, giving Yusuke time to adjust to the intrusion within his body. Yusuke, however, responded almost immediately, bucking his hips up against those of his lover. Koenma answered by pulling back then thrusting forward again. Yusuke wrapped his legs around his lover's waist as Koenma began rocking his hips and thrusting in and out of the tight body beneath his.

Yusuke met Koenma thrust for thrust and soon their rhythm became frenzied. As he felt the heat of his passion begin to pool within his groin, Koenma reached between their writhing bodies and wrapped long, slender fingers around the hardened length of his lover and began pumping the rigid flesh in time with his thrusts.

Feeling that warm hand on his flesh sent Yusuke over the edge. He arched his back, his head burying itself within the pillows, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and screaming his lover's name, he came violently over his stomach and the hand clasped around his shaft before sinking back onto the soft mattress.

As he heard his lover scream his name, Koenma felt his own end. Thrusting hard into the body beneath his, he spilled his essence into his lover, crying out the name of the one he loved before collapsing onto the body beneath his own.

* * *

When he found he could move once more, Koenma shifted his weight from his lover's body, his softening length slipping easily from within Yusuke. Moving to lay next to his spent lover, he gently caressed the boy's face. Brown eyes opened lazily, and Yusuke grinned widely.

Koenma answered that grin with a tender smile of his own. "Are you ready for dinner now, Yusuke, my love?" he asked.

Another grin, this one of a decidedly lecherous nature, appeared. "Nah, Rich Boy." Yusuke shook his head. "I've got a MUCH better idea."

And with that, Yusuke rolled over on top his lover.


	5. Chapter 5

**_(Standard disclaimer: You know the drill! I don't own YYH or its characters; they are the sole property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shonen Jump Comics Weekly, Studio Pierrot and Fuji Television, damn my luck!_****_)_**

**_After three years, I... AM... BACK! I do apologize and humbly beg your pardon for taking so very long to update this story. Back in 2008, my husband lost his job, and after that, life took a nosedive... so much so that I didn't feel like writing ANYthing and the muse took a powder. But all is well, as the husband in gainfully employed once again, and I've finished my second haiku manuscript (which is now in the hands of my publisher and hopefully, will be good enough for them to publish it). Best of all, it seems the muse has returned and once again, I've got the YYH fanfic bug! YAY!_**

**_This chapter is dedicated to Happy Demon Hobo and her BoWeavill, who were instrumental in helping write the description for Hiei's motorcycle so I didn't come off sounding like a tech manual - or sales brochure. _**

**_As well, it's dedicated to hColleen, for helping me keep my sanity these last three years as well as turning me on to the song, Aka to Kuro! If you haven't heard it, go - find it on line - and listen... it is VERY Hiei/Kurama. If I were name my chapters, this one would definitely be 'Aka to Kuro'!_**

**_Thank you my lovelies!_**

**_And now... on with the show!_**

* * *

****"_What the FUCK do you think you're doing to MY song?"_

The silence that followed the little guitarist's enraged outburst was palpable… so thick you could cut it with a knife. No one moved or dared speak.

Kurama, his hand frozen just above the 'com button, was the first to break the deadly quiet. A slender finger lowered slowly to press the button; his soft tenor filling the outer booth. "Forgive me, Hiei. I meant no offense. Please understand, though, that when I listened to the demo tape for Dragon's Flame, the music and lyrics for this song seemed to speak to something within me. After that, I could do nothing except try and create an arrangement that befitted the very primal force of that music and those words."

"And did a damn fine job of it, too." Kuwabara muttered sotto voce to Yusuke.

Unfortunately for the carrot-topped drummer, Hiei'd overheard. Whirling around, he fixed his red-eyed glare on his taller band mate. "And just how the hell would you know, Idiot?" he snarled.

"Listen _runt_-boy, just because you do the writing for us, don't mean you're the _only_ one in this group who knows anything about music!" Kuwabara shot back.

"Please." The quiet voice from the doorway startled the verbal combatants from their battle. Two sets of eyes, one chestnut and one indigo, simultaneously looked toward the sound. They were joined instantly by the other occupants of the small room; each of them staring in surprise at the redheaded figure that had just come through the open door, his arm tucked beneath their raven-haired producer's.

It was a measure of their concentration on the argument between Hiei and Kuwabara that no one had heard Yomi leave the room, much less return with the blind keyboardist until Kurama spoke.

He gave them a small, apologetic smile now. "There is no need to argue. The fault is entirely mine. I had no right to do an arrangement for 'Darkside Stories' without first gaining permission from the composer to do so, and I fear, by not doing so, I've caused unnecessary dissension between you. And now I'm rambling and repeating myself." A soft sigh and then, "my sincerest apologies to you all, but especially, to you, Hiei." Kurama removed his arm from Yomi's and bowed deeply to the room at large.

"Idiot!" The harsh exclamation had Kurama straightening abruptly, his head cocked and sightless eyes honing in unerringly on the small guitarist who stood with his arms crossed over his chest. And even though he knew the redhead couldn't see it, Hiei fixed him with his trademark glare.

"I did not say I was offended," he continued, voice still harsh but not quite as filled with anger, as it had been only moments beforehand. "But the next time you take it upon yourself to mess with one of my songs, you might just consider asking first!"

A soft smile found its way onto Kurama's lips. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied. "However, in my defense, let me just say that, prior to today, I had not made your acquaintance, and therefore, could hardly have been expected to seek your permission before I'd done the arrangement… now could I?" Again, the smile came, this time slightly mischievous in nature, and Hiei knew that if Kurama had still had his sight, those green eyes would have been sparkling as the redhead posed his question.

Meanwhile, unseen by Hiei (since they were standing behind the volatile guitarist), Yusuke nudged Koenma. When he'd gained his lover's attention, dark eyes widened and flicked toward the door. Koenma caught the meaning behind the gesture and nodded. His gaze shifted to Kuwabara, and he repeated Yusuke's motions. The carrot-topped drummer quickly nodded his own acquiescence and the three made their way toward the door.

When they reached the relative safety of the opened doorway, Yusuke finally spoke. "Hey, guys… um, it's gettin' kinda' late and since it doesn't look like we're gonna' get anything else done today, Kuwabara, Koenma and I are gonna' pack it in." His eyes sought their manager for reassurance. "That okay with you, Boss Lady?"

Mukuro arched one elegant eyebrow, her lips quirking upwards in a smirk as she caught the intention behind Yusuke's seemingly innocuous words, and she nodded. "As a matter of fact, Yusuke, that's an excellent suggestion. Yomi and I have a meeting with Raizen in…" she glanced down at her watch, "about five minutes. So we'll see you all tomorrow…."

"….Bright and early!" she added, seeing Yusuke's grin, and smirked again at the boy as that grin quickly turned into a scowl. Their lead singer was most definitely NOT a morning person.

During the brief exchange between Dragon's manager and their lead singer, Yomi had been quietly conversing with Kurama. "Are you sure?" the producer asked. "I think it'd be best if you let my driver take you home for the day."

The redhead shook his head. "I'd rather stay for awhile longer and work on one or two other arrangements. That is," and here Kurama raised his voice, his tone playful, "if Hiei has no objection."

* * *

"You hungry?" The gruff voice broke the companionable silence that had fallen between the two musicians since they'd finished their latest arrangement.

They had worked through three songs, and Hiei had to admit, the redhead had talent. All too often as they'd worked throughout the afternoon – debating everything from lyrics to the music itself to tone and pitch of not only the instruments but Yusuke's voice – the little guitarist found himself not only coming around to Kurama's point of view, but also agreeing with the suggestions the redhead had proposed. The man knew his music; that much was certain, and Hiei found that he'd thoroughly enjoyed their collaboration and was loathe to end his time with the blind musician.

He stifled a grin as Kurama's stomach growled softly in response to Heidi's inquiry. Kurama blushed, and though he'd managed to hide his smile, Hiei couldn't help but chuckle now.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said dryly and watched as the pink that tinged the blind keyboardist's cheeks deepened to crimson.

Soft laughter answered him before Kurama lifted his left hand and with deft fingers, popped the crystal of the watch adorning his right wrist. Thin, red eyebrows rose in surprise as those fingers slid over the watch's face. "I'm sorry, Hiei," the redhead apologized, "I'd no idea it was so late."

"Don't sweat it." The barest of pauses followed before Hiei continued. "So, you interested in blowing this joint and grabbing some dinner?"

The smile that lit the blind pianist's face was radiant, and Hiei found himself blinking at the sheer brilliance of it. "I'd like that," Kurama replied and smiled again.

The smile quickly faded, though, the look on Kurama's face becoming pensive as pearl white teeth began worrying at his lower lip. "Something wrong?" Hiei found himself asking the redhead.

Kurama nodded, teeth releasing the lip. "I should let Yomi know," he replied. "He'll worry if he returns and I'm not here."

It was on the tip of Heidi's tongue to retort, 'let the bastard worry', but he thought better of it. Instead, he walked to the couch, retrieving the cordless, in-house telephone from its cradle on the side table. Quickly he punched in the extension to the president's suite, knowing the man's priggish personal assistant would not leave his desk until Raizen himself left the building for the day.

"Good evening…Mr. Tourin's office. How may I assist you?" Hokushin's coolly professional voice issued through phone.

Hiei did not return the greeting. "It's Hiei Jaganshi," he stated flatly. "Are Mukuro and Yomi still with the Boss?"

He could almost hear the stifled, exasperated sigh; just picture the eyes rolling, the thin lips pursing as Hokushin fought to maintain his composure. "Yes, Mr. Jaganshi, they are still in attendance. Is there a particular reason you require this information?" came the reply, the tone frigid now.

Hiei smiled devilishly. Gods but he loved pushing this prick's buttons almost as much as he did Kuwabara's! "Yeah, there is. I need you to give our pretty-boy producer a message for me. Tell him Kurama and I are done and that we're leaving. We'll be getting something to eat and then I'll take Kurama home. Got that?"

The sigh became audible and Hiei's grin widened. "I shall deliver your message to Mr. Gandara. Will there be any….." The click of the disconnect button sounded, and Hiei replaced the phone in its cradle before turning to find a merry smile once again gracing Kurama's elfin features.

"Pretty boy?" the redhead questioned, cocking one thin, red brow. "Why Hiei, I didn't know you held Yomi in such high regard? I'm sure he'll be quite flattered to learn of your admiration for him."

"Kurama… Fuck you!" The little guitarist retorted.

"If you think you're _up_ to it," Kurama demurred and then laughed aloud.

Hiei's eyes widened; his mouth dropped open, forming a silent 'O' of surprise, and he was very grateful at that moment that their keyboardist was without his sight. A moment later and he'd schooled his features into their usual indifferent scowl.

"Hn. It's good to know that your piano playing's better than your attempt at humor. You should leave comedy to the comedians… and can we get the hell out of here, now!" he groused causing the redhead to laugh again.

"By all means, Hiei," Kurama replied and held out his arm. "Shall we?"

Hiei stepped forward and took the outstretched arm. He tucked it securely under his own then gently turned the redhead around and guided him to the door.

* * *

The 2007 Yamaha Road Star Silverado stood proudly in its place, as sleek and graceful as a jungle cat. Its mirrored chrome and high-gloss, dark, metallic purple-blue color gleamed beneath the dim lighting of the underground parking garage, and Hiei could not help but to smile as he guided Kurama toward the motorcycle, hand reaching into his pocket and pulling out his keys. That smile never failed to appear whenever he saw the bike. It was his pride and joy – his baby, and he was as enamored of it as any new father would be of his progeny.

The smile quickly became a grimace, though, as they neared the Yamaha, for it finally hit him that the man whose arm was currently tucked beneath his own was blind. "Shit!" he hissed, disgusted with himself, and stopped abruptly a few feet from his bike. How the hell was Kurama supposed to ride the damned thing and why hadn't he thought of that _before_ he asked the redhead to have dinner with him?

"Hiei? Is something wrong?" Kurama asked giving the arm he held a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah! I'm a fucking idiot!" Hiei shot back, somewhat harsher than he'd intended.

Kurama flinched slightly at the terse reply but quickly recovered and offered the smaller man a smile. "Though you may be many things, I doubt that an idiot… excuse me," he said, the grin widening, "A 'fucking idiot' is one of them. So tell me, what seems to be the matter?"

"Hn. You may just revise that thought once you hear this," Hiei replied. He let out a brief, but heavy sigh before continuing. "You know that I told Hokushin to let Yomi know we'd be going to dinner and then I'd take you home."

"You've changed your mind, then?" Kurama asked, disappointed as he'd been looking forward to spending more time with, and getting to know, the feisty little guitarist.

Not only had Hiei proven to be a talented musician, but a damned good lyricist as well – if the three songs they'd worked on this afternoon were any indication. He'd been especially taken with 'Life is a Lemon and I Want my Money Back' and was curious to know what had inspired Hiei to write that particular song.

"No." Hiei shook his head. "But I forgot until just now that I don't have a car; I've got a motorcycle….."

"A bike?" The redhead broke in, excitement in his voice – lyrics and music forgotten for the moment. "Where? May I see it?"

Hiei was slightly taken aback by Kurama's enthusiasm but decided, 'what the hell?', he'd go with the flow for now and worry about being an idiot later. "It's here… about 15 steps to your left." He guided the redhead to the bike then slipped his arm from Kurama's and gently grasping the blind keyboardist's hands, placed them on the leather seat.

Kurama ran his hands slowly backward along the seat then up, noting the small, raised ellipse of the backrest. "Would you describe it to me, please?" he asked running his hands over the soft, padded leather of the backrest then back down and along the seat again.

Hiei watched those long fingers as they traversed the seat's length. The play of slender fingers along the supple leather had him wondering how those fingers would feel caressing length of a different sort. Immediately, his brain supplied the image, and just as quickly, he quashed the picture as his mind registered a softly voiced, "Hiei?"

The query returned him to reality and Hiei looked at the redhead. Kurama's hands had stilled, now resting atop the deep purple blue of the gas tank. His head was tilted slightly up and to one side; a look of confused inquisition gracing the elfin features.

"Yeah," the little guitarist responded, glad to find his voice came out steady.

"Woolgathering, were you?" the redhead asked with a smile.

"What?" was Hiei's rather intelligent response.

"I asked if you were woolgathering. It's something my mother used to ask of me quite often when I was younger. It means to indulge in fanta…."

"I know what it means," the little guitarist retorted glad for Kurama's lack of sight as red flooded his cheeks. "And I was not!" Though, in point of fact, that was exactly what he'd been doing. "I was deciding how best to describe my bike so that I didn't come off sounding like some gods-damned commercial pitchman!"

"My apologies again, then," Kurama replied, 'both for the interruption and the assumption."

Though the tone was apologetic, the amused note in the pianist's soft voice told Hiei that Kurama didn't quite believe him. Nevertheless…

"Hn," the little guitarist sighed, and then in a voice only slightly rushed, continued on.

"It's a 2007 17 V twin Yamaha Road Star Silverado with a 40mm carburetor and a five speed manual transmission, making it a nice bike for cruising. And just WHAT is so funny?" He finished with a huff, hearing a soft chuckle coming from the redhead's direction.

"I'm sorry," Kurama replied, laughing outright now, and then biting his lower lip to contain the sound. "But with that last line – 'making it a nice bike for cruising'," he imitated the little guitarist, "you sounded exactly like one of those ad men."

Hiei felt heat rush to his face. Kurama was right. That remark had sounded just like something from a car or motorcycle salesman… and a 'used' one at that. Still, a comeback was in order, so, "You suck," he retorted.

"I've been known to swallow as well. Care to find out? " Kurama teased, having sensed the little guitarist's embarrassment and seeking to defuse the situation. "Seriously, though, Hiei, I'm familiar with this particular bike. Kuronue owned the 2005 model. His was silver and black. What color is yours, if I may ask?" he finished, long fingers tracing along the top of the gas tank.

"It's a custom job." Hiei answered a bit smugly; Kurama's teasing soothing his wounded pride. "It's a metallic dark purple, with blue undertones. I also had all the regular chrome on the bike replaced with custom, mirror finished chrome. And along each side of the gas tank is an arced lightning bolt in pearl white."

"Twins to the one in your hair, no doubt," the redhead commented.

"And just how would you know that?" the little guitarist demanded.

"I take it you mean the white starburst arcing just above your bangs? Kurama asked.

Hiei rolled his eyes. The look, though Kurama couldn't see it, conveying his doubts about the new keyboardist's level of intelligence. "Hn," he said aloud.

Kurama smiled. He found he was not only beginning to like the sound of that monosyllabic reply but was also becoming conversant in what it meant in a particular situation This one was definitely, 'only an idiot would state the obvious… but I like you anyway.'

He shrugged gracefully as though it was no matter. "The same way I know your hair is jet black except for the starburst, and you are five feet, two inches in height with chestnut colored eyes that in certain light, look red. Also, the same way I know Kuwabara is six feet tall with red hair which is more orange than red and his eyes are blue. While Yusuke, at five feet, eight has dark hair… as dark as yours, though his eyes are a rich brown color; and Koenma is just an inch taller than Yusuke with light brown hair and hazel eyes…. I asked Yomi to describe all of you to me. You really didn't think I'd brave the lions' den without knowing a little about those lions, now, did you?" he finished, raising an elegant red brow in amusement.

"You do realize the orange-haired oaf's more of a jackass than a lion?" Hiei retorted, his tone conversational yet somewhat sullen.

"And yet, some day – perhaps sooner than you think – you could very well be related to that 'jackass'!" Kurama shot back; his smile serene but with a hint of teasing to it.

He was baiting the little guitarist, and Hiei knew it, yet he couldn't help but respond to the provocation accordingly. "Che! I'll choose to ignore that for the moment," he said. "Know though, that if you allude to that particular topic again this evening, I won't be held responsible should you find your ass unceremoniously dumped from my bike in the middle of nowhere!"

Kurama laughed outright, quickly biting his lower lip to stifle the sound, though sightless green eyes were still crinkled in mirth.

"And just what have I said that you find so amusing, now?" the little guitarist huffed, crossing his arms.

"I'm sorry, Hiei," Kurama apologized again. "It's nothing, really. No, that's not true. It's…" He shook his head. Sightless green eyes honed in on Hiei's own chestnut, and Hiei found he could not look away from that non-stare as Kurama spoke.

"Thank you for not treating me with kid gloves just because I'm blind," he said, no trace of teasing in the soft alto this time."

Hiei felt heat suffuse his face again, though this time it was with pleasure at those words. "Hn. You're welcome. But I still think I'm an idiot!"

"Why?" Kurama asked.

"Because** YOU'RE** blind, and I have a **MOTORCYCLE**," Hiei snapped as though the dilemma should have been obvious – Kurama's lack of sight notwithstanding. "How the hell are you supposed to hold your balance while riding when you can't see?"

"Ah." Understanding dawned on the blind keyboardist. "That won't be a problem," Kurama assured Hiei. He smiled softly in remembrance. "I used to ride with Kuro all the time, my eyes closed just so that I could feel the sensation of the elements unencumbered by my sight."

"And," the smile turned mischievous as he leaned across the bike to purr into the little guitarist's ear, "I do know how to hold on!"

Inwardly, Kurama smirked as he felt the heat that suffused Hiei's cheeks and the involuntary shudder that ran through the man as he'd spoken. He realized then, that he'd just been flirting with the little guitarist; and what's more, he found that he was okay with it.

"Now who's woolgathering?" Hiei's deep voice broke into his thoughts, and Kurama grinned sheepishly.

"Guilty as charged," he acquiesced with a good-natured nod. "But you do realize that you all but admitted just now that you had done the same earlier, don't you?"

"Kurama… just get on the damned bike," was the surly retort, and Kurama laughed outright.

"Your wish is my command, Dark Lord," he said, executing a rather abbreviated version, due in large part to his close proximity with the motorcycle, of a sweeping bow. "Though I believe I'll need some assistance, if you don't mind?"

"Hn," the little guitarist answered, and quickly walked around the bike.

Kurama cocked his head slightly to the left, hearing the distinct sound of a snap being popped, and then leather being thrown open followed by a 'swish'. He remembered feeling a saddle bag when he'd run his hands over the bike and knew that Hiei had just opened the bag and taken something from it.

"Hey, Rapunzel," he heard, "let down your hair."

He laughed and reached up, pulling the tie from his hair and shaking the red mane out. It cascaded down the middle of his back; a scarlet waterfall that made Hiei's breath hitch. Shaking his own head to clear it, he touched the red-head's arm, gaining Kurama's attention.

"Here," he said, taking one of the blind pianist's hands and placing the helmet he'd removed from the saddle bag against his palm – Kurama's other hand immediately coming up to grasp the other side, "put this on."

While Kurama set about putting the helmet on and securing the chin strap, Hiei lifted his own black one from its place on the handlebars and put it on. He threw one leg over the bike, straddling it, and then threw back the kick stand with his foot. He straightened the bike, looking over at the red-head as he did so.

"Here," he said, twisting slightly and placing his hand on Kurama's arm, "give me your hand."

When Hiei felt the hand grasp his, he continued, "Okay, now place your other hand on my shoulder. It's right about 10 o'clock. Good," he nodded, feeling the hand on his shoulder. "Now slide your hand across my back until you can grip the other shoulder… right about 2 o'clock." Again, he felt the hand move across his back to settle against, and then tightly grasp, his right shoulder. "Okay, now I want you to lean into my back and then raise your right leg as high as you can." He felt the taller body against his, Kurama's breath tickling the back of his ear. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yes," the red-head answered.

"Good. " Hiei turned a bit more and placed his right hand gently atop the calf that was almost at eye level. "Now, lean into me a little more and let your leg follow the movement of my hand."

Kurama did as he was told, feeling his leg being drawn forward then down slightly. "Okay," he heard the guitarist say, "now lower your backside onto the seat."

Again, he did as he was directed, settling himself on the rear seat and distributing his weight evenly. Instinctively, he raised his feet from the ground and placed them down on the small rests.

"All set?" Hiei asked.

"Ready when you are," came the red-head's excited reply.

Hiei grinned. "Then, as 'The Boss' once said, 'strap your hands 'cross my engine', and let's get the hell outta' here," he said as he turned the key, the bike's engine roaring to life.

Kurama laughed and leaned forward. Hiei felt thin arms encircle his waist, the keyboardist's lithe body settling at his back as he put the bike in gear, and roared out into the night.

* * *

**This chapter takes place immediately before the events in Chapter 3. The next chapter will take place during the same time as those events.**

**Anyway, I hope this was worth the wait. If you'd be so kind, please leave a review at the door.**


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